


For You? Anything.

by Lost_And_Insane



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Reader-Insert, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Spock saves you, Starfleet Academy, male or female reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2020-09-30 21:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_And_Insane/pseuds/Lost_And_Insane
Summary: By the time you realized you'd walked into the wrong lecture, it was far too late to slip out unnoticed; a walk of shame wasn't really on your to-do list today. Luckily, a kind stranger unexpectedly decides to help you out.(Started as a one-shot, now has multiple chapters).





	1. Chapter 1

It’s strange, the things you notice when you’re running late. Was that your old astrophysics professor flirting with the lunch lady? Wait, no. Xenobiology. You didn’t even know he gave classes in this faculty. The replicator that was usually crowded by students stood abandoned in the mess hall; you briefly considered getting a coffee but decided against inevitably spilling it on yourself in your rush to get to your class. It’d be just your luck.

Lecture hall 014, end of the corridor. A two hour diplomacy lecture was awaiting you. Granted, it wasn’t your favourite subject, but you’d already missed the last four classes this year and you really didn’t have much leeway left. One more missed class and Mr. Stellar would freak. You just hoped he’d forgive you for being five minutes late. But hey, what was that old Terran term? Better late than never?

When you carefully pushed open the door, you nearly started doing a little victory dance—the lecture hadn’t started yet! A little odd, as Mr. Stellar had never been late before, but you decided not to take your luck for granted. You scurried up the stairs and took a seat somewhere in the middle row—you would’ve personally preferred the back row, where your friends would no doubt be seated, but one quick glance had told you there weren’t any seats left. This would have to do.

Both seats next to you were unoccupied. You weren’t a fan of meeting strangers and having to make conversation, so whenever you weren’t seated with your friends, you preferred keeping the empty space on your sides—someone two seats to your left was looking at you, so you purposely kept your eyes on your bag as you unpacked your supplies.

The door to the lecture hall opened loudly; the soft murmuring of the students slowly came to a halt as a teacher walked in—he held a briefcase in one hand, coffee in the other—and started preparing. You wondered if your eyesight was going bad—that didn’t look like Mr. Stellar, unless he’d managed to lose about 100 pounds in one week.

“Good morning, class,” the unfamiliar teacher started calmly. “I apologize for being a bit late. Don’t worry, I won’t force you all to stay ten minutes longer.”

You took a moment to look around at the students in the lecture hall. With a bit of a start, you realized that the teacher wasn’t the only unfamiliar face in the room. In fact, you didn’t recognize a single person here; a wave of anxiety hit you as you realized what was happening. You had walked into the wrong lecture.

A quick check on your phone revealed that the diplomacy class had been cancelled and rescheduled to tomorrow morning; the class you had so stupidly walked into was something called Fractional Calculus. You’d never even heard of the subject and now you were in the middle of an interactive lecture!

The door was ages away, so there was no way in hell you could still slip out unnoticed. Making a scene hadn’t really been on your to-do list today, but your only two options weren’t reassuring—either you walk out now with a horrible walk of shame, or you stay in this lecture and just pray you don’t get called on at any point.

The decision wasn’t hard to make.

With a sigh, you sank into your chair and mentally prepared yourself for an anxiety inducing hour. The teacher—who you’d now learned was named Mr. MacAllister—had started his lecture, completely unaware of the lost student in the middle of his class. You’d grabbed a pen to seem at least slightly busy.

Movement to your left made you turn your head. The guy who’d been looking at you previously scooted over to sit next to you. You took note of his pointed ears and precise haircut. A Vulcan? In Starfleet Academy? Could this day get any weirder?

I’m screwed now, you thought. If anyone was going to rat you out, it’d be a Vulcan who didn’t understand human embarrassment. He calmly put down his books on the little table in front of him and leaned closer to you.

“Are you in the wrong lecture?” he asked in a whisper.

Here goes. You nodded slowly, eyes locked on your hands. It felt like you’d forgotten how to breathe, just waiting for him to speak up and get you kicked out.

“Here, this will help.”

You look up to the sound of a book hitting your table. The Vulcan had given you his calculus book, along with a stack of papers that looked like very neat and professional notes on the previous lectures; you had stop your mouth from falling open in surprise.

“Today’s lecture is mostly revising old material, so you should have less trouble following along,” he explained. “I can assist with any questions you may have.”

It took you a few seconds to find your voice. “You’re an angel, thank you.”

As it turns out, the lecture wasn’t half as difficult with the Vulcan’s notes and book. He was right; the lecture was all about previously taught material and you now had notes on all of it—whenever it took you a while to find the correct pages, the Vulcan next to you would quickly point it out for you so you wouldn’t fall behind on the lecture.

“Fractional Calculus is used in many problems, for example in engineering, physics, economics and biological processes,” the professor explained. “Many models can be represented by fractional differential equations and therefore it is increasingly used in space travel. It’s brought us entirely new possibilities!”

The Vulcan had noted down a bunch of equations, some of which looked familiar from your old high school physics classes. In fact, you were quite certain you could still name them.

“This is the Gamma function, right?” you whispered.

The Vulcan observed you for a moment, perhaps surprised, but eventually nodded. “Correct.”

You pointed at the one beneath it. “And this one?”

“The Beta Function, generally determined as more favourable.”

The professor in front of the class loudly cleared his throat and you startled, head shooting up from your notes. He was looking straight at you.

“Paying attention, Cadet?” he asked lightly. He pointed at the screen above him. “If you have time to talk with your friend, you have time to answer this question.”

Your throat tightened on itself as you carefully looked up and read the question on the board. The first to use Fractional Calculus for a problem? No way, you’d just read that in the Vulcan's notes!

“Norwegian mathematician Niels Henrik Abel,” you responded quickly, before you’d forget. “In.. 1823 he applied it in the formulation of his solution for the Tautochrone Problem.”

Professor MacAllister smiled, clapping his hands together. “That’s correct!”

While he continued a long lecture about Abel, you couldn’t quite wipe the smile off your face. You turned to look at the Vulcan next to you when you noticed him looking, and he gave you a small nod before returning his attention to the lecture. Your smile only grew wider.

The rest of the lecture passed quite uneventfully, and you were proud you’d managed to make the best of such a terrible situation. This should’ve been an hour of pure hell, but with the kind Vulcan’s help, you’d actually learned something. Your chest swelled with pride as you picked up your stuff and prepared to leave.

“Here.” You handed the Vulcan his notes. “Thanks again, you literally saved me.”

He gently put them back in his shoulder bag. “It was no trouble. You’re a fast learner.”

Once again, you couldn’t help but smile; you thanked him profusely one last time before turning to leave the now empty lecture hall. A soft touch on your arm—a touch so light you barely noticed it—made you stop and look back at the Vulcan in surprise.

“Could I..” He hesitated. “Know your name?”

You smiled kindly and, with a nod, told him your name.

“I’m Spock,” he replied. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He extended his hand for a polite handshake right at the same time as you raised yours in a Vulcan salute. The two of you stared at each other, momentarily dumbfounded, before Spock slowly dropped his hand and you burst into laughter. It’d been a while since you’d laughed so genuinely. It was the tiniest gesture, a twitch, but you’d swear the corner of Spock's mouth raised for a fraction of a second as well.

He mirrored your salute, seemingly relieved at not having to shake hands.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "Well... See you around?"

Spock nodded and passed you to leave. You stayed in the empty lecture hall for a moment longer, diplomacy books clutched tightly to your chest, and eventually headed home with a light heart. Your smile was glued to your face for the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally decided to continue this. I've already planned the story, so more chapters are on their way! It will most likely have 5 or 6 chapters, and I promise not to take too long on them now that I've decided to continue this. Thank you for reading <3

The soft tapping of your pen echoed through the abandoned library, drowning out the soft rain beating against the windows. Your headphones lay untouched on the table in front of you, the ‘low-battery’ display blinking up at you accusingly, almost mockingly. With a roll of your eyes, you reached over to cover it with your scarf.

“Focus”, you whispered to yourself, redirecting your attention to the books spread out in front of you. You forced your hand to stop tapping the pen so annoyingly.

Anthropology. God, you hated this subject. That being said, having your first anthropology class of the semester tomorrow at 8 am was not helping the bad mood you’d found yourself stuck in, and the new teacher wasn’t making it any easier. What kind of sick bastard gives out fifty pages of reading material for his first class? And, better yet, how cruel does he have to be to force the students to write an essay about it?

You didn’t dare check your watch. It’d been hours since you locked yourself in here, watching all other students head out for the night one by one until it was just you left. You really felt it would be better not to know what time it was. It would only demotivate you further.

The rain had gotten worse—every once in a while the sky flashed, and the loud ticking of the rain against the windows was unbearably loud to your tired brain. If only you hadn’t forgotten to charge your damned headphones overnight you’d have your soothing music to listen to, but no such luck. It really did seem like the world was out to get you today.

A loud sigh escaped your lips when you realized you hadn’t taken in a single word of the last two pages you’d read. Giving up was so tempting at this point, but your grades hadn’t been very good lately and another fail on anthropology would result in a forced talk with your study advisor, and you really didn’t want to go down that road again. The last talk was still giving you enough stress as is.

Right when a bright flash of lightning lit up the empty library, something moved in the corner of your eye. Your head shot up, eyes squinting towards the darkness, but you couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. Hesitantly, you looked back at your notes, still on guard from whatever movement you’d spotted. You kept your ears perked for any sounds other than rain and wind.

You nearly screamed when a figure suddenly stepped out of the darkness, and you were about to jump up from your seat when you recognized familiar dark hair and pointed ears.

“Spock!” you exclaimed, pressing your hand over your wildly beating heart. You’d heard one too many horror stories of lonesome students getting jumped in the middle of the night; for a moment you really thought…

Spock looked like a deer in the headlights, frozen on the spot while looking at you with what you safely assumed was worry. “I apologize,” he said quietly. “It was not my intention to frighten you.”

You took a few deep, steadying breaths before you managed to open your mouth again. “I know, it’s okay. I just didn’t think anyone else would be here this late”

Spock tilted his head ever so slightly, and he moved a few steps in your direction. “A logical assumption, as 2 a.m. is not usually a time to study.”

Damn it. Now that you knew it was 2 a.m. you felt the last of your motivation fly right out the window into the storm outside.

“Yeah..” You sighed, defeated, and gave Spock a sheepish smile. “But hey, it’s good to see you again!”

He nodded his head politely. “Likewise.”

A few seconds passed and he finally closed the last bit of distance towards your table. He looked down at your books and his expression changed into one of surprise; it was such a clear emotion that you had to double check if you’d seen it right.

He gently picked up your notebook and turned it around so he could read it. Your eyes lingered on his face while he read, and you were mesmerized as a droplet of water traveled from his hair down his face, ending up on his lips, where he subconsciously licked it off, still completely focused on your incoherent notes. You felt your face heat up so you quickly diverted your attention to the trail of water left by his dark coat, which had probably been a light brown before getting soaked in the rain.

“Anthropology,” Spock spoke again, forcing your eyes back up to his face. If he’d noticed the soft blush on your cheeks, he’d decided to ignore it. “What urges you to study at this time?”

“Got my first class of this semester tomorrow and I need to write an essay for it,” you explain with a huff. “It’s just so much material to get through..”

Spock didn’t hesitate in saying, “I could help you, if you wish.”

You gape at him for a moment, dumbfounded, before quickly shaking your head. “No, no, I can’t ask that of you. It’s in the middle of the night.”

“Vulcans require less sleep than humans,” he stated matter-of-factly. He walked around the table, grabbed a nearby chair, and sat down next to you after shrugging off his soaked coat. “Besides, anthropology was one of my favourite subjects when I was still required to study it.”

Your blush was back in full force now with this close proximity to him, but you hope it isn’t visible in the faint library lights. Honestly, you’d already given in.

“Well.. In that case, I would really appreciate your help,” you said. The way Spock’s eyes lit up at your words made you feel a little lightheaded.

He instantly flipped back to the start of the chapter and started explaining. He sounded passionate about the subject and you wondered how he did it. It seemed this really was one of his favourite subjects, as he barely skimmed over the text yet was able to explain the material in great detail. You struggled to keep up with his words as you hastily scribbled down some notes based on his explanation; they were a major improvement compared to your previous attempt at notes.

“This part is not of great importance yet,” he said, pointing at a big lap of text. “I would focus your essay on chapter two.”

You nodded and quickly noted ‘Not important’ on your newly taken notes before moving on to chapter two. It was such a relief to have Spock help you out, and seeing him so in his element made you smile. Watching him was just so mesmerizing. He explained the contents of each section one by one, explaining it much clearer than the way it was written in the books. You found that listening to him was much more enjoyable than reading by yourself; dare you say the material even became interesting with him teaching it to you.

“This won’t be mentioned in your classes either. It will become more important after this semester,” he pointed out. You gladly scrapped more information from your notes for now. His slender finger traced your handwriting. “If you mention these three things in your essay, it will be sufficient.”

“Okay!” you exclaimed with your new-found motivation, knowing you already had a bunch of information on those topics anyway. Putting it all together into an essay wouldn’t take much time. In fact, as you grabbed your PADD and sorted out all the information in your unfinished essay, you realized you’d already written plenty; after deleting a few useless parts it was all good to go.

You handed the PADD to Spock. “Like this?”

He read it quickly, nodding along with the words. “Affirmative.”

Relief washed over you and couldn’t help but laugh, letting out a small cheer. Done! You couldn’t quite belief it.

“I’ll hand it in immediately.” You quickly took back your personal PADD and, with a few clicks, your essay was officially handed in. “Thank god, I’m done.”

You started to pack your stuff, once again scared to check the time. Class was so early tomorrow and you didn’t do well without sleep.

“Thank you so much for your help,” you told Spock as you rose from your chair. He followed your example.

“It is my pleasure.” He grabbed his coat and put his chair back to its original place. “Allow me to walk you back to your dorm. It is unwise to walk alone at this time a night.”

You nodded in agreement and, after stuffing all your books into your bag and hanging your empty headphones around your neck, led the way outside. The storm had passed, the sky calm and the scent of freshly fallen rain prompting a tired yawn from your lips. Now with the stress of the essay gone, it had made way for exhaustion.

“Seems you keep helping me out of tricky situations,” you told Spock, stifling another yawn. You smiled warmly at him.

He gave you a nod, his eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn’t decipher. “It would appear so.”

Few words were spoken between the two of you for the rest of the walk towards your dorm, the silence comfortable and natural, and only when you stood in front of the dorm did you think to speak again.

“Thanks again for the help,” you said, laughing at the feeling of déjà vu. “See you around?”

"Certainly."

You watched Spock leave before finally heading inside, cheeks hurting while your heart fluttered in your chest. Despite your exhaustion, it took you a long time to calm down enough to fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

It was just past eight in the morning when you walked into the cafeteria. Your old astrophy—no, _xenobiology_ professor wasn’t flirting with the lunch lady today, but as the woman was handing a student a bowl of soup she smiled brighter than usual, and you’d already heard her cheerful laugh from down the hall. Despite your exhaustion, you tried your best to match her energy as you asked her what was on the menu for lunch later that day.

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. Your feet dragged across the floor as you tried to catch up with your friends down the hall, and you were certain you didn’t look very charming as you yawned for the millionth time that morning.

“Come on, hurry up!” Your roommate, Dahlia, teasingly called out. “We don’t want to be late for the first class!”

Your eyes had landed on the popular hallway replicator though, and your mouth watered at the idea of some early-morning coffee.

“Go on ahead,” you called back. “I’m dying for some coffee right now.”

Dahlia laughed and shook her head, but continued down the hall regardless. You saw her hurry into the classroom as you waited in line, knowing she would save you a seat with the others.

The big screens floating above the hallway were showing their usual announcements—tryouts for teams, schedules for exams, weather predictions. Nothing new, nothing exciting. You could still recall that one day when all the screens had flashed red, and everyone had to evacuate the building due to a fire in the labs. It was probably for the better that the announcements were boring this morning.

The line for coffee was getting thinner. You impatiently checked your watch—8:13 am—and sighed deeply. Its bright holographic display burned into your tired eyes so you quickly put it down again. The door to the classroom was wide open, so you knew you still had time. You hadn’t spotted a teacher walking in yet, either, and you knew you could trust Dahlia to send you a message on your PADD if he showed up.

As you were staring down the hallway, you spotted a familiar figure walking past; your heart fluttered.

“Spock!” you called out before you could think twice.

He turned, a bit startled, until his eyes landed on you standing in line. His expression softened noticeably and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Good morning.” He walked over to stand next to you.

“Morning!” You’d tried to muster up as much energy as you could, but knew it fell flat. Spock looked amused.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, waving your hand dismissively. “It’s why I’m getting coffee.”

He hummed. “A wise decision.”

You moved forward one spot in the line. Almost there. God, they ought to place more replicators. No wonder this building logged so many late students.

Spock checked his watch—unmistakably a newer model than yours, as the display was a higher resolution and easier on the eyes—and you felt slightly guilty that you were keeping him here.

“You can go if you want,” you told him. “I know it’s taking a while.”

“It is quite alright. I would prefer to wait here with you.”

You gave him your brightest smile in thanks, choosing to pretend your cheeks hadn’t heated up at his words.

The student in front of you moved away, revealing the popular replicator in front of you. “Ah, finally!” You basically shoved your student ID against its display.

Oh, how you loved this thing. It was old and well-used, but it made your coffee just right. The replicator in your dorm room couldn’t quite get this taste down no matter how much you’d altered it, so you preferred this regardless of the guaranteed long wait. If you could, you’d steal this replicator and bring it back home.

The cup manifested in front of you and you clutched it tight in both hands, the smell of it alone awakening your tired senses.

You turned to Spock. “You want anything? My treat.”

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips but he softly shook his head. “Thank you, but I had coffee earlier today.”

Earlier than eight in the morning? You’d crawled out of bed half an hour ago and were still absolutely floored, yet Spock looked the same as always; there wasn’t a hair on his head out of place, and his black blazer didn’t have a single wrinkle on it. You wondered what it was like to need less sleep than others.

The two of you started down the hall. The cup of coffee felt warm and comforting between your hands, and with every sip you felt yourself wake up a little more. Spock was looking at you from the corner of his eye, and you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Your steps suddenly felt a lot less heavy.

“Thanks again for the help last night,” you said to fill the silence. “I’m feeling really confident about the upcoming class.”

Spock straightened his back, arms clasped behind him. “Glad to hear it.”

“It feels like I’m always thanking you. Think the roles will be reversed one day?”

“I do not doubt it.”

“You sure? I don’t think I need to help you with classes anytime soon.”

“Perhaps not,” Spock said lightly. “But I am certain a situation will arise where you can teach me something.”

You chuckled. “_Sure_.”

You’d walked as slowly as you could afford, but you still arrived to your classroom quicker than you’d liked. You peeked inside to see class hadn’t started yet, as expected, and you turned back to Spock one last time.

“Well, time for class I suppose,” you said, giving him a final smile. He gave you a nod and you headed in, basically skipping towards the free seat next to Dahlia. She gave you a questioning look at your sudden energy but didn’t ask.

You couldn’t wait to run into Spock again. Perhaps you shared a same lunchtime, even with him clearly being in a higher year than you. You mentally noted to ask for his PADD number the next time you’d meet, so the two of you could plan to meet up rather than just hoping to run into each other again. Although, you had to admit it was fun to run into him randomly—it never failed to brighten your day.

“Good morning, class.”

Your head snapped up to the front of the room. Spock had taken his place behind the desk and was staring out at the class expectantly.

“My name is S'chn T'gai Spock and I will be your Anthropology teacher for this year. Calling me Spock will be sufficient, as you will not be able to pronounce my name correctly.”

Your attempt to swallow your coffee went horribly wrong, and you started to cough furiously in the back of the classroom. Dahlia started patting your back (“Are you okay?”) as you tried to catch your breath.

Spock was a teacher?! No wonder he seemed to know so much about this subject—he even told you all about what to prepare and what wasn’t important yet. But why was he in that fractional calculus lecture with you if he wasn’t a student? You’d been so certain..

“Are you quite alright, Cadet?” Spock asked from the front of the class. You finally managed to stop coughing, but your throat hurt and your head was no doubt red like a tomato.

“Y-Yup, I’m good..” You stammered. Laughter rippled through the class and you sank deeper into your chair to avoid everyone’s eyes. Dahlia still held a comforting hand on your back.

Spock waited for a moment longer before continuing his class, but you could no longer bear to listen. You hid your face behind your cup, although you were too afraid to drink it in case you’d start choking again.

It felt like you were going insane. You kept telling yourself that it made no sense, but you knew it did; you’d just missed all of the signs. No red student blazer, infinite knowledge on class material, knowing just what to write for the anthropology essay..

“You sure you’re okay?” Dahlia asked from next to you. You didn’t lift your gaze from the table.

“I’m just tired,” you answered lamely. You made a point of rubbing your eyes, but it didn’t look very genuine and you knew Dahlia could tell. She softly squeezed your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay, class will be over before you know it,” she reassured you. “And with your luck, your mystery angel will come and save you from anthropology all together.”

You cringed and sank even further into your seat—the back of your head came to rest against the backrest of the cheap plastic chair. You’d told Dahlia all about the ‘angel’ that kept helping you out, but now you really wished you hadn’t. Thank god you hadn’t mentioned his name. At least you could suffer the shame alone.

Crushing on a teacher. You couldn’t believe it. You’d always judged others for trying to get on a teacher’s good side, and now here you were, unable to even look at Spock in fear of making eye contact because you couldn’t trust yourself not to start blushing. This suddenly felt so wrong; it was like you’d been punched in the chest, your heart feeling so heavy. Your lungs were burning with the effort to just keep breathing normally.

Spock had moved on to chapter two, which you knew by heart after last night’s study session. You considered yourself lucky you’d studied so diligently last night, because you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to a single word Spock was saying. Your brain was a mess of thoughts and feelings.

Your coffee was growing cold. You pushed it in Dahlia’s direction and she hesitantly accepted it, finishing the drink for you. She was giving you worried glances, and you noticed she’d already started copying her own notes into your notebook, noting your inability to focus.

You were so disappointed. You hadn’t had a crush in years, and definitely not one so serious, but it was all over now. Relationships with teachers were strictly forbidden, and knowing Spock was just your teacher had made you realize that all the kindness he’d been showing you was just that—kindness. He’d helped you with anthropology because he wanted you to pass his class; he walked you to the classroom so he wouldn’t have to write you up as late and file a report to administration.

Dahlia nudged your shoulder once more and you looked up at her. She looked concerned.

“Class is over,” she said as she pushed your notebook back towards you.

Around you, all your classmates had started to pack their things, You dared to peek towards the front of the class, where Spock was also putting away his material, putting them into a case he hadn’t been carrying before. With a heavy sigh, you pushed your stuff into your bag and followed Dahlia towards the exit.

_Please don’t stop me, please don’t stop me, please don’t—_

“Cadet, a word?”

_Fuck._

You flinched and came to a stop. Dahlia stopped as well and glared at the students that gave you teasing cheers—‘you’re in trouble!’

“Want me to wait outside?” she asked kindly.

You quickly shook your head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll see you at lunch, alright?”

She hesitated for only a moment before nodding. She followed the others outside, glancing back at you in worry.

With a heavy breath, you slowly turned around to face Spock. He waited patiently for the last few students to leave before speaking, “You seemed distracted. Were last night’s explanations of the material insufficient?”

You gaped at him for a moment. “What? No, it’s not— I just..”

“If the material is too complicated, I can—”

“You never told me you were a teacher!” you blurted out.

Spock fell silent. He tilted his head and you hated how cute it made him look.

“It didn’t come up in our conversations,” he said after a while, voice softer than before. “I have never stated being a student, either.”

You looked away, staring at a point just above his shoulder. “I know, I just assumed. You were in that calculus lecture and all..”

Realization flashed across his face, visible for only a moment before he became unreadable again.

“I see,” he started. “I follow professor MacAllister’s lectures because he is my mentor.”

You resisted the urge to slap yourself in the face. Spock’s expression may have been hard to read, but you knew yours wasn’t; your flinch would’ve been visible from across the room.

“Does this alter your perception of me?” he asked slowly, and you swear he looked uncertain for a fraction of second. It was gone before you could know for sure, though.

Your arms were folded across your chest, gaze focused on your feet. “Well.. I guess..” It didn’t seem smart to mention your developing crush on him. What good would that information do, now? You suddenly felt very sad at that revelation. “Just.. forget it. I’m sorry.”

Before he had the chance to say something you’d turned around and bolted out of the classroom, not waiting for him to dismiss you. You didn’t care how stupid you looked running down the hallway. As you passed the replicator you flipped it off, mentally cursing the whole world for hating you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I haven’t been well. Chaotic times. I’ve written/deleted/rewritten this chapter about ten times and settled on this story partly based on Kirk’s time in the Academy. I’ll try to do better. Your comments have been unbelievably kind, thank you.

“So, Cadet,” Professor Stellar said, “your theory is that the Xindi Incident wasn’t all bad.”

_Theory_? Was that what you had written in your essay last night? That you had somehow managed to formulate a theory at all in your sleep deprived state was a surprise, but definitely a welcome one. You were covering some very complex, confusing material in your Diplomacy course, and as far as you were aware you didn’t have a theory on the subject at all. Mr. Stellar was describing something you didn’t even remember writing.

Unfortunately, this was not an uncommon occurrence.

The last few weeks had been a bit of a whirlwind, both emotionally and physically. Now that the first semester was over the Academic work was hitting you like a tidal wave. Assignment after assignment after assignment; you honestly couldn’t keep track anymore, let alone keep the subjects apart.

It was almost like you were back in your first year—lost, confused and very, very overwhelmed.

You were trying to keep track of everything to the best of your abilities. However, you were falling behind on multiple courses and had already received plenty of demerits for running late and missing classes. There had been a time when you were near the top of your class, but lately you’d been nothing but average.

“Yes, Sir,” you said lamely, desperately trying to remember the exact words in your essay. _Following the Xindi incident, the Federation_—no, that wasn’t right. _Due to the horrific effects of the Xindi attack—_no, that didn’t sound like you either.

“In my many years of teaching, I’ve never had a student bold enough to call the Xindi Incident a necessity to the Federation.”

Oh. _Right._ It all started to come back to you now, and although Mr. Stellar didn’t look even the slightest bit indignant at your ‘theory’, your heart leapt to your throat.

“Uh… I don’t think I meant it that way…” you said. “I just meant that without the Xindi Incident, the Federation wouldn’t be what it is now.”

It was scorching hot in Mr. Stellar’s office and it didn’t help that the air-conditioner was busted, emitting a loud humming that you were desperately trying to block out. The space looked like what you liked to call ‘the picture-perfect office room’: several framed diplomas lining the walls; holo-pictures of friends, family and colleagues on any surface; a few old-school paper books stacked on his neatly arranged desk.

At the right side of his desk was a screen where your essay was no doubt on display—too bad it was a one-way projection, or you would’ve been able to read along and remember what on earth you’d written. Mr. Stellar was staring at it intently. “You mention here that the Xindi Incident was ‘largely beneficial to the Federation in the long term’.”

You had been in Mr. Stellar’s class long enough that you knew he was setting up some sort of trap, but you couldn’t figure out what. Hell, you could barely remember what you’d written in that essay, let alone the point you were trying to make.

“Yes?” you started, wincing at how hesitant it came out. “I mean, yes.”

“Can you explain this statement to me?”

You looked over at the clock on his desk. 11 am. You didn’t have lunch until quarter to twelve, which meant this could very well turn into a long debate with Professor Stellar. You suddenly wished you’d gotten yourself that coffee this morning, rather than skipping the line and getting tea instead.

“Well, the logs from the _Enterprise NX-01 _clearly state that, had the Xindi Incident been prevented all-together, the future would have changed considerably.”

Mr. Stellar wasn’t quite meeting your eyes, seemingly looking just past you with a pensive expression. “How so?”

“The logs state that there were multiple factions in the future meddling with the past, but they never succeeded in manipulating the past sufficiently without causing it to escalate to a full-blown war or causing too many detrimental changes to the timeline.”

The professor leaned forward in his chair, chin leaning on his closed fist. You heard a shuffle from the hallway and felt jealous that students were already heading to the cafeteria in D-Building.

“Which means?” Mr. Stellar prompted.

You considered it a moment. “That the post-Xindi Incident timeline is the Prime Timeline. Altering it endangered the future.”

Mr. Stellar was looking at the screen once more, leisurely scrolling through your essay and nodding. Neither of you spoke for minutes, the only sounds in the office being the _hummmmmmm _of the busted air-conditioning, and the distant talking of students in the hall.

Mr. Stellar eventually looked back at you. “Now tell me, Cadet. How does this relate to the founding of the Federation?”

You stared at the clock, willing the minutes to pass faster. Dahlia was no doubt already waiting for you in the cafeteria.

“Well… it’s the aftermath of the Xindi Incident that helped cement the alliance between Andoria and Tellar; without it there's no Coalition, and thus no Federation,” you explained.

“It helped cement it?” Mr. Stellar asked, feigning confusion. “How so?”

You gaped at him for a moment, trying to remember the point you’d made in your essay. What had happened in the aftermath? You were forgetting something very obvious, something you swore you’d written about. In fact, you were certain Mr. Stellar had discussed it in his last lecture, but right now you drew a complete blank.

“I… Uh…” Your eyes were honed in on the desk. You pulled at the collar of your Academy blazer, the thick fabric suffocating you in this heat. “The aftermath… It, uh…”

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you startled, but you could swear you’d heard a whisper of a word. _Terra Pr__—_

“Right!” You sat up straight, everything suddenly coming back to you. “In the aftermath of the Xindi Incident, the conflict had caused an increase in xenophobia among Humans towards non-Humans, which led to increased support of the extremist group Terra Prime. To battle the group, an allyship was created and the Coalition was formed, which eventually resulted in the creation of the United Federation of Planets.”

Mr. Stellar was smiling now. He leaned back in his chair, swiping at the screen once more. “Now tell me, Cadet. Why didn’t you describe this in your essay?”

You deflated, finally catching up on what was going on. Your essay was garbage, but Professor Stellar had just given you a chance to show that you did know what you were talking about.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’ve been having a hard time. It won’t happen again.” You sat up straight, determined to show him you were confident. He regarded you for a moment longer before letting out a hum and focusing on the screen again.

You quickly spun around in your seat while he wasn’t looking, searching for whoever had just saved your ass.

Of course, it was none other than Spock, leaning against the wall next to the door. It was always Spock.

During the silence, you took a moment to look him over. He seemed completely unaffected by the day’s warmth, while the last fifteen minutes of sitting still in an office with a broken air-conditioner had left you all clammy and red in the face. You quickly wiped your forehead with the back of your hand. How long had he been standing there?

When you turned back to Mr. Stellar he was regarding you with a smile. You couldn’t tell whether he knew that Spock had helped you out, but if he did, he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m giving you a passing grade, but I won’t give you a second chance next time, understood?”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

“Dismissed.”

You pushed yourself onto your feet, purposefully keeping your eyes on the floor. As you headed for the door, desperate to get out of this office, Mr. Stellar turned towards Spock. “You needed me?”

“Actually,” Spock started slowly, “I was looking for the Cadet.”

You froze right before you could step outside, head snapping up to look at Spock. You instantly regretted it when you realized how close he was, standing right next to the door and all; you quickly took a step back.

Mr. Stellar chuckled. “Very well, off you go.”

Outside, the air was humid, the kind of heat that made it feel like you were drowning. There were even some of those wavy heat lines emanating from the pavement. Your head started to hurt. You blinked at the clear sky, eyes taking a second to adjust to the bright sunlight, and the headache slowly subsided until it was nothing more but a soft throbbing.

“It has been a while,” Spock said by way of greeting.

He looked the same as when you’d last seen him, which shouldn’t be surprising as it’d only been about a month since that first class, but you still found yourself staring at him. Seeing him again was like looking at a picture of him—like he wasn’t really here, not within reach to you, but it was enough to stir up all these feelings you’d worked so hard to bury.

Except he _was_ here, and he’d apparently been looking for you.

“Hey,” you said, adding a nod so it didn’t feel too dull. You checked your watch and all you saw was _lunchtime_. “Mind if we talk while walking? I need to get to D-Building.”

Spock nodded, gesturing in a manner that said _‘lead the way.’ _You did so gladly. The sun felt like lasers on your skin and you couldn’t wait to be inside with a _working _air-conditioner—you tried to walk fast enough to feel a breeze on your face, but the air was too still and you didn’t want to look stupid in front of Spock.

“I am glad to see you have recovered,” Spock eventually said. “I have been missing you in my classes and grew worried. That said, I hope you have not fallen too far behind on material?”

It took you a moment to realize what he had said, but then it all clicked. Dahlia must’ve covered for you and told him you were sick. That would explain why the commandant of Starfleet Academy hadn’t come knocking on your door yet for missing every single Anthropology lesson after the first one.

You could already tell this conversation was going to be awkward. It hung in the silence between the two of you like smoke, not impossible to look through but too thick to ignore.

“Yes, I’m fine now. A bad flu had me bedridden.” You briefly considered coughing to drive the point home, but remembered just in time that acting was not your forte. You settled on just looking a little miserable, which wasn’t hard to do in this sweltering weather.

It was hard to tell if Spock believed you at all. His expression had always been so difficult to read, and now was no exception. He was staring straight ahead, still annoyingly composed in the current weather, but there was a certain look on his face that you hadn’t seen before. Before you could decipher it, he turned to meet your gaze.

You tugged at the collar of your blazer, taking a deep breath. D-Building couldn’t come in sight soon enough.

“I’m still working on the assignments,” you continued bravely. “I’m sorry for missing the deadlines.”

He nodded once. “Quite alright, Cadet. You can hand them in after week seventeen.”

You flinched. It felt so wrong to hear him call you Cadet, rather than by your name. Impersonal. _How it should be_, you realized. But two could play at that game.

“Thank you, Sir.”

From the corner of your eye you could see him frown at you. You didn’t dare turn to face him, keeping your face as stoic as possible. More sweat had pooled on your forehead and you wiped it off with your sleeve.

When you didn’t say any more, Spock lightly cleared his throat. “If you require any help with the previous assignments, do let me know. I would be more than willing to assist.”

Although your heart instantly started beating faster at the opportunity to spend time with Spock, your mind knew better. You shook your head after a short pause. “It’s okay, I can manage.”

Spock definitely noticed your indecision but decided not to push it. He merely nodded. “Very well.”

You gave him a quick smile. His reward for Not Pushing.

D-Building was right around the corner. You tipped your face toward the hot San Francisco sun, instantly regretting it as your head started throbbing again.

The sounds around you were running together like water. There was the slap of your shoes on the pavement and the clinking of Spock’s watch as it grazed his belt; students’ giggles as they passed you on the way to the dorms. There was the sound of Spock’s voice, words you couldn’t make out. There was the hum of the broken air-conditioner that was nowhere near you anymore.

Your skin felt hot, then cold again, and the D-Building in front of you went fuzzy. Your fingertips found the zipper of your Academy blazer and you basically teared it open, _screw the regulations, _you needed to cool down_._ It didn’t work; your body felt clammy and full, like it could burst at any second.

There was a hand on your arm, freezing cold. You squeezed your eyes shut and a violent shiver ran through your spine.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you managed to open your eyes again, your vision sharp once more. Spock was right in front of you, expression clear on his face—_worry, worry, worry. _A blast of air-conditioning slipped under your clothes, leaving a million tiny goose bumps in its wake. It felt like you could finally breathe again.

Spock was talking but his words were still foreign to your ears. You realized you had somehow made it inside D-Building. You stayed pressed against the wall for support—and because it felt cool against your back.

“—you hear me?” Spock was talking. _Finally_, his words started to make sense again. You nodded lightly. Spock’s hand was still on your arm, grounding you.

“What happened?” you asked quietly. Your back slid against the wall until you hit the floor, finally giving your trembling legs a break. The smell from the cafeteria made you nauseous.

“Heat exhaustion, most likely.” Spock moved down with you, crouching on the floor, hand never leaving your arm. “I want you to stay indoors and drink water until the temperature turns more favourable.”

“But I have more classes.”

“No, you do not. You are on medical leave.”

You laughed more out of nervousness than anything else. Spock lowered his arm and you resisted the urge to hold it in place. Instead, he lightly pressed his fingers against your wrist to take your pulse.

“It’s not a heat stroke,” you spoke quickly. “I’m fine now.”

He didn’t take your word for it, focusing on your pulse for a few seconds before nodding. “Good.”

His hand moved back up to your shoulder. You bit the inside of your cheek, but you don’t think it hid the smile. You let yourself lean into his touch. Just a little. A small consolation for how terrible your day was going so far.

“What’s the verdict, Doctor?” you joked.

Spock looked confused. “I am not a doctor. It would be wise to visit the medical department, especially considering you have only just recovered from a flu.”

Your heartbeat was clumsy, like it was trying to clap to a rhythm it couldn’t quite find. You could feel the warm red blood humming just below surface of your skin. Perhaps it was the sudden closeness between you and Spock as he helped you back on your feet, but you suddenly felt the guilt of lying to him hit you like a punch to the gut.

“I wasn’t sick,” you blurted. “I’ve just been skipping your classes.”

You instantly regretted opening your mouth. Spock was staring at you, expression stoic as ever, but his grip on your shoulder had faltered. His arm slowly dropped to his side.

“I’ve been skipping your classes not because I’ve been sick, but because it feels wrong to see you teaching.” The damage was done already, might as well press on while you still had the courage. “I always got very excited to meet you because you’d been so kind and helpful to me, but knowing that you were just helping me out because I’m your student…” you trailed off.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to slow the erratic flutter of your heart in your chest. Spock gaze was piercing you so you let your eyes wander, focusing on the students pooling out of the cafeteria down the hall. 12 pm. Lunchtime was over.

A heavy sigh left your lips. “I’m sorry for skipping so many of your classes. I don’t want you to think that it’s your fault in any way, because it’s just me being childish and avoiding my problems. But I’m done avoiding now.”

The mass of students were heading your way. You straightened your back and took a step to the side, putting some distance between the two of you. You did your best to appear relaxed, but it was difficult.

“I do not understand,” Spock said, barely audible over the sound of chattering students. It looked like he wanted to add something else, but visibly hesitated before falling silent once more.

You spotted a familiar face in the crowd—and with it, the promise of an escape. Dahlia was heading this way, probably on her way towards her Biology class, so you could tag along on your way to medical.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be present in your classes from now on,” you spoke quickly, already starting to back up towards the door. “And I’ll finish the assignments.”

Before you could back up any farther, Spock reached out and grabbed your wrist. He said your name—not _Cadet_, but your actual name—and it stopped you dead in your tracks.

“Did I misunderstand your feelings, then?” he asked. “Because I do have feelings for you.”

_Time seemed to stand still_, wasn’t that what people said? _The world stopped spinning._ But it wasn’t like that at all. The words had left his lips so fast that you were starting to doubt your own hearing; all you could do was stare at him in complete surprise.

“I—You—” you stammered. “What?”

You were suddenly no longer desperate to leave. In fact, you don’t think your legs would’ve responded at all even if you’d willed them to move. Spock’s grip on your wrist was feathery light and it felt good and it hurt at the same time, like a static shock keeping you pinned to the spot. Your heart was beating so fast, wild and unapologetic, and you thought your chest might explode.

And then Dahlia appeared at your side and the moment was over. Spock’s hand left your wrist.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dahlia asked, looking you over. “You look a bit pale.”

Spock looked unfazed. “The Cadet almost fainted. Could you head to medical, please?”

You were trying to read his expression, see anything that could help you gauge his feelings, but there was nothing there for you to find. He was back to being composed—the picture-perfect image without a single crack in his walls. Yet he had just confessed to you like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Yes, of course,” Dahlia said. She touched your shoulder and you shrugged her off.

Spock nodded once, clasped his hands behind him, and took a few steps back. “Thank you. I will see you two on Monday.”

“Yes, Sir.” Dahlia steered you out of the building before you could say anything—not that you’d find the words. When you glanced over your shoulder Spock had disappeared behind the mass of students.

“Let’s get you to medical,” Dahlia said and you nodded, because you knew there was no other choice. Whatever opportunity had just presented itself, it had passed. And whatever energy you’d had left leaked out, past the wavy heat lines and through the cracks in the pavement, leaving nothing but the faintest ghost of a stain.


	5. Chapter 5

You arrived early to Anthropology on Monday. It was held in the classroom where you’d first met Spock, which made you want to bail. You couldn’t believe how much had changed between then and now—only a semester had passed, yet to you it felt like an eternity.

8:05 am. The classroom was still locked, so you stood waiting at the door with a handful of other students that you knew only by name. Leaning against the wall, Lizzy tugged at her too-short student blazer. Simon was rambling about his upcoming match—_football? Volleyball?_ In front of him, Ruby was tapping away on her PADD, her fake nails scratching the screen with every touch. They were all huddled together like a clique, whereas you stood as far away as you could without appearing impolite.

A morning like any other.

You looked down at your arm. You’d rolled up the sleeves of your blazer—which, knowing Starfleet’s tendency to be unforgiving with their dress code, was definitely against regulations—and the ugly purplish bruise that had formed there was left on full display. So far, no one had asked. It was probably for the best. The whole situation would be ridiculous to explain—_oh, this? I got it when I fainted and my teacher whisked me to safety!_

And then they would lean in and wink—_sure, ‘fainted’._

Ugh. Fine, sleeves down.

More students had begun to join you in your waiting, Dahlia included. She was carrying two cups and as she took her fateful spot at your side, she handed you one of them.

“God, that line is really unforgiving, huh?” she muttered.

You grinned. “Now you know why I’m always running late.” You tilted the cup in her direction. “Thanks.”

She knocked her own cup against yours. “Cheers.”

You yawned and cracked your neck. It had been a while since you’d actually gotten out of bed in the morning, as Anthropology was one of your only morning classes and, well, you hadn’t been to a lot of those. Your body was definitely feeling the effects of the change in sleeping pattern. During the entire walk from your dorm to the classroom, you’d dragged your feet like it was physically impossible for you to move any faster. Part of it was exhaustion. The bigger part was reluctance.

Going to class with a crush on your teacher was one thing. Going to class while the teacher also had a crush on you was on a whole different level.

8:35 am. You peered down the empty hallway. “God, where’s Spock?” He didn’t seem like one to be late, ever.

Speak of the devil. As soon as his name had left your lips, his familiar figure appeared at the end of the hallway. You were reminded of that morning of your first Anthropology class—that time you were still blissfully unaware of Spock’s occupation—when you’d spotted him walking past. He’d looked the same back then: same blazer, same briefcase. Yet, looking at him now with the gift of hindsight, he seemed so different.

Your Guardian Angel, in a black teacher blazer that still looked wrong on him.

“Good morning, Cadets,” he greeted. All the students collectively made a noise like _mehhh_.

Spock didn’t head for the door, even as students stepped aside to give him space. Instead, he took a few steps back. “We will not be sitting in a classroom today,” he said. “Follow me.”

The other students clearly shared your confusion. As Spock began to walk back through the hall from whence he came, everyone followed suit, chatting excitedly. You quickly fell into step with Dahlia.

“Where are we going?” you asked her.

“I don’t know. The syllabus says we’re supposed to have a regular lecture as introduction to the second semester,” she spoke quickly. “Exciting though, isn’t it? Wonder what he has planned.”

You diligently followed Spock outside, where the early-morning sun had risen and the temperature was slowly starting to heat up. The air was still clammy, but not enough to be bothersome. You looked up at the blue sky—it was so blue it could be the ocean, vast and deep, and the few clouds could be sea foam.

You’d expected Spock to turn left towards the library, or perhaps straight to find another room in the main building, but he did neither. He took a right and led you just off-campus, somewhere behind C-Building (which was used by medical students, mostly) where you’d honestly never been before. Dahlia regularly had classes here. You wanted to ask her if she had any ideas where Spock was leading you yet, but she was in a conversation with someone.

You followed a few feet behind, kicking leaves and dirt over her tracks. Already the heat was stifling; the sun had only just risen but it felt inches away. You were slightly dizzy again, which was worrisome.

It was a blessing when Spock finally stopped walking, choosing a spot in the middle of a park you didn’t know existed.

“Sit anywhere you would like,” he said, gesturing at the grass around him. Students instantly began to claim their spots, sitting left and right, some in the shade and some in the early morning sunlight. You took Dahlia’s arm and let her choose a spot near her friend—girlfriend?—who had settled against a tree.

After a moment, every student had chosen a spot. Spock looked around for a moment longer before nodding. He remained standing in the middle of the field, hands clasped behind his back.

“Now that your first semester has come to an end, the introduction phase is over,” he started. “The next stage of this course will be focused on Social and Cultural Anthropology, as I am certain you have already read in your curriculum.”

A few students snickered but Spock ignored it. “Can anyone explain this subfield of Anthropology? What will we be studying?”

Someone on Spock’s right raised his hand. “It’s about societies and cultures, and how societies differ from each other.”

“Correct, what else?”

The girl who Dahlia had talked to earlier added, “Also general things like economics, political systems, religion, art…”

You weaved your fingers through the grass underneath you. It was still a little damp—not enough to stain your clothes, but enough to be cool to the touch. It felt nice with the temperature rising rapidly.

“I would like for you to look around at each other.” Spock looked from student to student as he talked. When his eyes met yours, you looked down, fussing over your shoelaces that weren’t untied. “What do you notice?”

“That none of us want to be here,” a student whispered, followed by some laughter. _Speak for yourself_, you thought. You were quite content sitting in the soft morning breeze and listening to Spock’s voice. It felt like you were cheating, in a way—you could hear his voice, soothing and warm, but without giving him anything in return. Greedy.

You quickly raised your hand, “We’re all sitting in small groups?”

“Exactly right, Cadet.” Spock turned to you and nodded. You felt your anxiety settle back down. “At the start of this lesson, I told you to sit anywhere you would like. In turn, you formed groups and sat as far away from me as possible.”

The students laughed, looking at the significant distance between Spock and the group closest to him. You laughed along, the sound like stale dust rising from your lungs. It felt good to smile. You hadn’t been doing a whole lot of that as of late.

“What can you tell me about the way you are currently seated?” Spock asked.

Dahlia glanced at you and said, “We’re sitting with our friends.”

“Indeed. What else do you notice?”

It was quiet for a moment as everyone looked around, thinking of other answers. The sun was pushing higher in the sky. You were afraid to check your watch, knowing the time was passing too quickly and class would be over before you knew it.

“Most boys and girls are sitting separately,” Simon noticed. A few students nodded.

“And we’re sitting together,” an Andorian guy said, pointing at his Andorian sister. “Apart from the Terrans.”

Spock nodded. “Good. Anything else?”

Your eyes were drawn to him as he paced back and forth. Everything about him was soft: his eyes, the wispy black hair resting on his forehead, the delicate sunlight illuminating his face. His mouth, his voice. Even the way he paced was soft—taking care to step around a patch of wild flowers so as not to disturb them.

_He’s beautiful_. Unapologetically beautiful. You were surprised by the sudden urge to grab him by the shoulders and tell him this straight to his face. If only to make sure he knew.

“Even in small settings, such as students attending a class, groups are formed based on different beliefs, cultures, race, upbringing,” Spock continued when no one could think of another answer. “Now, imagine what it is like across different countries. Different planets.”

You closed your eyes, focused on the soft breeze on your skin and the sound of Spock’s voice as he talked. For a moment, everything was peaceful. Everything was alright. You could stay like this all day, but just this class would have to do.

Half an hour later, Spock was no longer pacing. Instead, he was standing near the clique from that morning—Lizzy, Simon and Ruby—and handing each of them a brightly colored strip of paper.

“In the next class, you will not be sitting in your regular groups,” he explained, going around and handing everyone a strip. “Instead, sit with those who share the same color as you.”

He handed you a red strip. Next to you, Dahlia got a green one.

“Read up on emic and etic perspectives and check the board for your weekly assignment. That will be all for today. Dismissed.”

As the students began to leave you glanced around, trying to spot anyone you knew with a red card, but they were all unfamiliar faces. You only really knew Dahlia in this class. Or in any other class, for that matter.

“You heading to A-Building?” Dahlia asked. She stuffed her untouched Anthropology book in her bag and pushed herself to her feet.

“Nah. I don’t have class for another hour, so I’m staying.” You held out your wrist in front of her face, tapping your watch.

“Lucky.”

She headed off to her next class—Biochemistry, from the top of your head—but you were no longer looking at her. Your eyes were focused on Spock as he prepared to leave. For the last couple of days, you’d been dying for the opportunity to talk to him, and now was your chance. You’d already planned out your words carefully. This was the moment of truth. You closed your eyes, repeating them in your head—_I didn’t get the chance to tell you before, but—_

There was a soft tap on your arm, one that you recognized instantly: a touch so light you could’ve mistaken it for the wind. Your eyes snapped open to Spock crouching in front of you.

“Spock, hey,” you said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

You made to get up, but Spock stopped you with a raised hand. “Mind if I sit with you?”

You shook your head. Around you, the other students had left, leaving just the two of you in the middle of the park.

He sat down in the grass in front of you, cross-legged, his hands folded carefully in his lap. He looked comfortable. You were smiling at him before you knew it.

“I am glad to see you,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Part of you was surprised that he still sounded the same, still spoke to you in that same kind voice that warmed your heart. You don’t know what you’d expected. A sudden barrier between the two of you, perhaps? Distance?

“I’m okay.” Your hand found your bruise and you poked at it through the fabric. You tipped your head at the tree behind you. “Staying out of the sun like you suggested.”

He gave you a smile. “Good.”

“I loved your class, by the way,” you admitted. “Makes me regret skipping the others.”

He straightened his back and seemed entirely too pleased with himself, almost like a child receiving praise. A laugh slipped from your lips, which you managed to disguise with a well-timed cough.

The two of you fell silent. You reached down and fiddled with your bag, rummaging through the front compartment for no reason other than to keep busy. A moment to collect your thoughts. You could feel his gaze on you, steady like the sun. The quiet got louder and louder, and just when you were about to start talking Spock beat you to it.

“I wished to apologize for what I said to you on Friday. I acted out of line and had made incorrect assumptions.” His words were calculated, prepared, more so than usual. He’d been practicing this conversation. “Furthermore, if my confession has made you uncomfortable in any way, I would not take offence if you wish to terminate our friendship.”

You stiffened. His words were like a punch to the gut. How could he be so nonchalant about this whole situation? So straight-forward about it?

“What? No, I—you don’t have to apologize. I should’ve been more frank with you. My stunned silence on Friday has given you the wrong idea, I wasn’t uncomfortable.” You’d been practicing as well. You’d imagined this conversation in your head a million times over, but imaginary-Spock was a lot easier to confess to. Now, all your carefully prepared words were slowly vanishing from your mind like ice underneath a blazing sun. If you didn’t get it out now, there’d be nothing but a small puddle left.

“You didn’t misunderstand.” You spoke quietly—so much so that Spock had to lean in to hear—even though there was no one around to listen in on the conversation.

“Misunderstand…”

“My feelings. You didn’t misunderstand my feelings.” _There._ It was out now, and just in case the point hadn’t been driven home yet, you concluded, “I have feelings for you, too.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly and his lips were parted, but no words came out. That, and the adorable tilt of his head, was a clear indicator that his practicing hadn’t prepared him for this turn of events. You offered a smile—one that you hoped looked reassuring, but you couldn’t be certain at this point. All you could focus on was the irregular chant of your heart in your ribcage.

“But then.. I do not understand,” he spoke slowly, his words no longer pre-prepared. “Why have you been avoiding my classes?”

You started to respond, but with a barely audible _‘Oh!’_ Spock was already talking again, like he was working to solve a particularly difficult puzzle. “You were interested in me when you believed me to be a student, but your feelings have changed now that you have learned otherwise, correct?”

“No, no, I—that’s not the _point_, Spock.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “The point is that _I’m _a student, so we can’t be together.” When he still looked confused, you added, “It’s against regulations.”

_Now_ he understood. The realization washed over his face like a tidal wave, written into his features with such clarity that you startled a little. Never before had he looked so human. You realized, as you regarded him in that moment, that he was much more complex than his stoic composure always made him out to be.

He directed his gaze downward. For the first time, he was the one avoiding eye contact. “I must admit, I did not realize.”

“Which part?” you asked with a misplaced chuckle.

With the sun casting down on it in-between the rustling leaves of the tree above you, his hair seemed almost iridescent blue. Your eyes were naturally drawn to him as he gazed across the park, lips pressed into a thin line. But not in a tense way. More like he was collecting his thoughts; thinking before speaking.

“On Vulcan, it is commonplace for a relationship to form between a mentor and their student,” he explained eventually. “I should have realized that Terran customs are not the same.”

Now it was your turn to be hit with that same tidal wave of realization. “So that’s why you’ve been so casual about it.” Not because he was just being kind, not because he was only helping out one of his students, but because he didn’t know he was breaking any rules.

For a second, there was nothing, and then Spock finally looked up at you and it hit you all at once. In the end, all of this changed nothing. A relationship was still against regulations, and the knowledge that Spock liked you back only sucked so much more when you couldn’t act upon it regardless. The disappointment rushed back into your body. Heavy and cold, taking you under like an avalanche.

“So..” You could barely bring yourself to speak. “What now..?”

Spock was quiet, which was the best thing and the worst thing. He didn’t know what to do either, hadn’t thought of a Plan B. Didn’t even think there needed to be a Plan B to begin with. You sat together in silence, just Spock and you and the disappointment so heavy it was crushing.

In front of you, Spock looked around the empty park. Legs still crisscrossed, he carefully moved closer to you. He stopped once your knees were touching. You took a deep breath—or tried to, at least, but it felt like you were breathing through a straw.

You’d never been this close to him, not even on Friday when he’d had his hand firm on your shoulder. His eyes were mesmerizing. You could get sucked in and disappear, like looking out into space, dark and endless, and you were floating at the very edge. His hair was recently washed and smelled like lavender, which you knew because he was close—_so close, too close._

Your name was little more than a whisper from his lips. “What is it that you want?”

Your body leaned closer to him without asking for your permission. You wanted everything about him—he was beautiful, the way two plus two is four. It was simple fact.

“We can’t—” you hesitated.

“Disregard the regulations. What do you _want_?”

You held your breath. All you could see were Spock’s cosmos eyes; nothing else existed. No Academy, no stress. No regulations.

“You.”

And then his mouth was on yours. Cautious at first, unmoving. He tasted like coffee and something sweet—peach; floral and acidic all at once. Your body caved like he’d just knocked the wind out of you. He slipped one hand around the back of your neck, and the kiss deepened, your lips burning where his lips were and your neck where his cold hand rested. It was both too much and not enough.

“I want you, too,” he whispered when you parted. His forehead was pressed against yours. You stayed like that for a long time, as close to each other as your sitting positions allowed. Breathing each other in.

“You could lose your job. If people find out.” Your voice was hoarse. Breaking the silence felt wrong, but you knew it had to be done.

“I am aware.”

“It would ruin your reputation. Your Starfleet career.”

“Affirmative.”

“Spock—” You leaned back, staring at him intently. “I need you to take this seriously.”

He dipped his head, once. “I am. Truly.”

You’d looked at him so often before, but now you _really _looked at him. Searched his eyes, his face, until you found what you were looking for. He was just as desperate as you were. He’d fallen just as deep. You held his gaze without looking away, like there was a string connecting your pupils to his’—_do you need this just as much as me? _you wanted to ask. _The way you need air in your lungs?_

Instead, you asked, “What are you willing to risk for this?” The last part came out breathy.

“For you?” Spock huffed, a sound you’d almost qualify as a chuckle. “I would risk anything.”


End file.
